Reforging Alliances
by Aelithi
Summary: Kiri'el was a blood elf in the wrong place at the wrong time and she paid for it dearly. When a human Paladin stumbles across what he thought was a fallen Night Elf, she is saved from death by mere chance. What happens when the truth comes out? Will he correct his mistake, or can two enemies overcome their prejudices?
1. Prologue

**- Reforging Alliances -  
**

"MMPH"

Kiri'el let out a muffled cry as a plated fist struck her again. It was all she could do to scream helplessly into the makeshift gag that had been stuffed into her mouth by her captors as the assault continued. A sickening crack told her that one of her ribs had finally given way a mere moment before the pain registered.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. She wasn't supposed to die like this. Helpless and at the mercy of someone that was supposed to have been her ally. The bond between the Orcs and the Blood Elves had never been strong, but they each filled a need for the other, and so they were tolerated. But this Orc was no ally. She wasn't even sure he could be called an Orc. He was a monster even by their standards and worse, - as if she were in a nightmare - she found herself completely at his mercy, or lack thereof.

Her wrists were bound above her head, tied to a rafter so high that she was nearly off her feet. Her amber hair hung sloppily over her face, dyed a deeper shade of red where it had mopped up so much blood that it had become saturated, and what was left trickled down around the edge of her mouth and dripped off. One of her eyes was swollen shut and the other was closed from exhaustion.

The Orc glanced her over for any area that hadn't been properly thrashed. Her armored chest plate had been removed and tossed unceremoniously into a corner, leaving only a cloth undershirt that had been nearly shredded in the beating. Where it had been white before, it was now stained red and covered in dirt. One of her legs hung limply, broken early on with a good kick. He had taken great pleasure in achieving that while she still wore her leg plates, and he gave it a kick again for good measure – and to hear the sounds of another muffled scream.

"No one can hear you" He said, grabbing her chin and forcing her gaze into his eyes.

"Scream all you want. Beg, plead, pray for a savior." He teased, moving his hand down to her broken ribs.

"Go on…amuse me." He said with a grin as he began to squeeze her side, drawing another agonizing cry.

The Orc's name was Karzak. Normally he wouldn't go out of his way to torture someone like this, but this particular blood elf had drawn his ire, and he was not one to be crossed. He didn't know who she was, not even her name, but she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That alone had guaranteed her death, but it was her reaction afterwards that had angered him.

_Anyone could be expected to fight back when you tried to kill them_, he supposed. Over the years he had mastered the art of showing his prey early on that resistance was futile and the best they might hope for was a painless death, something he usually granted not out of mercy or kindness of heart but simply because he was busy, and trifles like this took up more of his time than he liked to admit if he allowed himself to indulge.

But this time…this elf had gone too far. That she would strike him was an annoyance, but she had allowed one of her wild swings to behead his goblin business partner. Not only would that cost him quite a bit of money, but he would have to see the Trade Prince about the entire matter and play nice to ensure their agreement remained intact. He barely tolerated the Goblins when they were making him a profit, but to have to explain to them how one of their barons had died? To have to _apologize _to them_?_ The thought made his anger boil over again.

Another swift kick to her leg drew a surprisingly dull reaction and he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back to see her eyes glossed over, barely conscious. His fun had run its course it seemed. Too bad, he wasn't quite pacified yet. Maybe he'd steal away one of the slaves the green skinned fool had been delivering before he lost his head. Not like he was around to argue anymore.

_Oh well_, he thought with a sigh.

"_Mok nog" _He said simply to the dark in his gruff native language, and out from a corner stepped another Orc, his gaze indifferent.

"Clean this up." Karzak said simply, turning without any further thought and withdrawing from the room.

Kiri'el had regained enough consciousness to register the Orc's hand move to his side, and to recognize the dagger that he withdrew. Her eyes grew wide and fear overtook her as she tried to squirm away, pleading into the cloth that had been stuffed into her mouth.

"MMPH" she cried.

The Orc's gaze remained passive as he stepped over to her.

"MMPH MMNH" She shook her head, trying desperately to twist out of the ropes that held her.

He grabbed her shoulder, forcing her still and gazed at her with contempt, as if to show his annoyance at the chore of ending her insignificant life before plunging the dagger into her side. Shock overtook her at the sensation of several inches of metal forcing its way into her body, and she froze as she began to fade away. The Orc watched her only open eye droop, waiting patiently for it to close before withdrawing the dagger and stepping away to clean up the mess.

Before long there was almost no trace of the entire ordeal. The only proof that it had even happened was the small elf hanging limply from the rafters, and he rectified that with a quick slash at the ropes, catching her as she fell and wrapping her up quickly in a large cloth.

He carried her out the door and across a small clearing to a waiting cart, slung over his shoulder like a bundle of furs. He dumped her roughly in the back before climbing aboard and setting out, heading deeper into the hills and away from any nearby settlements. Nearly an hour later he stopped, gazing around before deciding the spot was secluded enough. Turning and climbing over the seat, he unraveled the sheet and slid her to the back of the cart before giving a hard shove and sending the elf's broken body tumbling off to the ground.

With that he turned back to the cart and departed, his job done. The wolves would find her eventually. Or they wouldn't. He didn't really care. His business with her was done. Tomorrow was fast approaching and he had other matters to attend to which had been delayed by his master's hobby. The spot where he had left her faded away as he let his mind drift away from his actions.

_Same old story_, he thought. It was always someone who had seen something they shouldn't have seen, been somewhere they shouldn't have been, said something they shouldn't have said. Unfortunate for them he supposed, but as always…not his problem, and not Karzak's.

But for once, it wasn't the same old story, and it was very much their problem. For once there was a twist.

They just didn't know it yet.


	2. Alaric

**- Reforging Alliances -  
**

Alaric had always liked Hillsbrad. It was beautiful, not in complexity like some of the other places he had been in the world – the Storm Peaks came to mind – but rather in its simplicity. It had everything you could want. A beautiful sea to the south, snowy mountains to the north, and nestled between them was the quiet town of Southshore. It was one of those places that always seemed far away from the rest of the world's problems.

It wasn't of course; the Horde and the Alliance regularly clashed when the scouts from Southshore or Tarren Mill would cross paths, but even those skirmishes never held the same intensity that you might find in say, Ashenvale, or even just a few days ride north in the Alterac Valley. They were born out of a sense of rivalry rather than hatred. They happened because each side was itching for a fight, not because one wanted to genuinely exterminate the other.

The Paladin had fought in the war years ago. He knew what it was like to hate your enemy, to want to scour the world of their kind. He bore no love for the Horde, but he also understood the value of restraint. Skirmishes served a purpose; they allowed the more rowdy citizens of each settlement to satisfy their need for battle in a way that severely mitigated the potential for damage or loss of life that was so prominent in the rest of the world where the ongoing conflict between the two sides had boiled over. It was an unspoken agreement between the two factions in Hillsbrad that he was happy to see upheld.

His own need for combat had been sated long ago. He wasn't particularly old – middle aged, or even young by human standards – but he had seen enough of war to grow tired of it. He was still perfectly capable with his sword, and wouldn't hesitate to use it when called upon, but he tried to stray from any path that might lead to such an event when he could foresee it.

On this particular day, he had been traveling through on his way to Southshore. He had wanted to make good enough time to get there before the night fell, but the sun drooping low over the hills told him that was unlikely. He had maybe an hour of light left, and so it seemed like he would be spending the night under the stars, not a prospect he particularly minded but one which would set him back part of a day.

He turned his charger north, towards the higher hills. It was a short ride, and off the beaten path, but it would make it less likely someone would stumble across his camp as he slept, and the hills would provide a natural barrier from several sides. The hooves of his horse patted softly against the ground as he rode on slowly, and before long he had found a spot to stop for the night. Dismounting, he scanned the area around him to verify that it was safe. The side of a large mountain was visible less than a hundred yards to the north, and thick trees provided cover from the other three sides. Even better, he could hear the soft patter of running water nearby. Water meant fish, and fish meant food.

It took him only a few minutes to unravel his makeshift camp, and before long he had tied his charger to a tree and set out on foot in search of the source of his meal. He attuned his senses to his surroundings as he walked, scanning subconsciously for anything that might be a danger to him. Coming upon the stream, he settled in to wait and was pleased to find he got a bite almost instantly, and then two more. _That was easy_, he thought happily.

He put the yet-to-be-cooked meal into a small pack at his side and set off back to the camp slowly. His eyes drifted upwards to the sky and he saw the first hint of stars peeking through only a moment before his subconscious alarm alerted him to something nearby that should not have been.

Quickly his gaze fell and scanned the trees. He saw nothing. No dark silhouettes, no telltale signs of a trap or ambush. But something was not right, he knew it. Slowly he began to walk once more, waiting for the reaction of an enemy who would have to keep up with him.

None did.

He turned again, gazing out through the trees into the quickly growing darkness. He couldn't shake the notion that there was something out of place. If it wasn't an enemy so be it, but he knew better than to ignore his instincts. Luckily for him, the darkness was not an obstacle to the Paladins of the light.

Quickly he brought his hand out, whispering the words he knew well. A burst of light erupted from his palm, illuminating all that was around him for a short moment as it pulsed before collapsing back inwards and returning him to darkness.

_There_.

He had seen something, or rather he had seen _someone_. Only briefly but what was now revealed could not be hidden from his eyes again. She was there, laying haphazardly in the grass only a few steps away. Not an enemy waiting to spring, but certainly someone who needed his attention. He was at her side almost immediately. It was an elf, that much he could see. Her dark hair covered her face but the ears gave her away.

_Pale, even for a night elf_ he thought. _She must have been out here a long time.  
_

He moved his hand down, feeling for a pulse. To his horror he felt the cool wet sensation of blood, and saw for the first time her injuries. Her face was swollen and her shirt was torn and covered in dark splotches that even in the fading light he saw for blood. Her leg was laying at an awkward angle and for the first time he saw that her wrists were bound together. Most frightening of all though was the deep gash running along her side. This wasn't someone who had come here by accident.

He looked up, glancing around the forest. He had chosen this spot specifically because there was little chance of being found by others, but now others were exactly what he needed. The night had fully set in though, and it wasn't safe to travel to a settlement, especially if whatever had done this was still nearby, so with a quick motion he picked her up and made for his camp. It would have to do.

Arriving back at the small tent, he laid her down softly on the bedroll and quickly dug into his pack for the vials he knew he kept there. The first he withdrew was red. He popped out the cork and turned the entire thing down her throat, clamping her mouth shut so as not to let it spill out. She made no reaction as he forced her to swallow it, and Alaric feared she may already be dead.

The second potion was blue. This time he drank it himself and almost instantly felt his magical strength restored. Without hesitation he tossed the empty vial aside and began to whisper more words, hovering his hands over her chest and head. Light began to flow to her, and his whispers grew more desperate with each second that passed without any signs of life.

Finally he fell back, his strength drained once more. Alaric had done all he could do; He hoped it had been enough. Slowly he moved his head to her chest, listening closely. After a few seconds of unnerving tension he felt it. It was faint, barely there, but the undeniable single thump of a heartbeat told him she was alive. He exhaled, relieved and sat back, trying to will himself to recover faster.

Every few minutes he would move his hands back to her and press himself to draw out any more healing strength he had regained since the last push. He focused most of his energy into healing the deep stab wound as best as he could, and though he could do little he managed to seal it. After another hour he had gotten her to the point of breathing almost normally again. She was in a precarious state, but her pulse was somewhat stable and she would likely live, at least until morning when he could do more.

Exhausted, he settled in to start a small fire and finally cook his fish. He ate only one of them; if she woke up he had no doubt she would be hungry, if she could even eat. Every few minutes he spared a glance over to her and by the time he was ready to allow himself a few hours of sleep he was happy to see her chest rising and falling normally with each breath. With that he twisted his cloak into a ball and placed it against a nearby log before settling into the dirt – his bedroll was a sacrifice he gladly made to someone in such dire need of comfort.

With a final sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted off, comforted by the quiet sounds of the elf breathing.

* * *

Where Kiri'el found herself she did not know.

And yet, she did.

She was here – wherever here was – and yet she wasn't. It was cold, and yet there was a soft warmth that permeated her skin. She could stand, walk, think, and do all the things that might have been impossible with the injuries she had sustained, and yet she needed to do none of them, for as she watched the nothingness unfold she felt as light as a feather, drifting up – or maybe floating in place?

Yes, she knew what this was.

She was dead.

She remembered now. The Orc, Karzak, had tortured her for hours before his minion had finished her as simply as if he were putting away a loaf of bread. It had been nothing to him. The memory pulsated through her mind but try as she might she was unable to feel anger or hatred. Something about this place put her at ease.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a spark, tiny at first but slowly it grew. Then, another spark right next to it began to grow as well. They expanded, ballooning in size as light rays shot outward into the nothingness, illuminating it into a beautiful garden of warmth. She had seen these creatures before. _Naaru_ the Blood Knights called them. They were the source of power for the newly created Paladins of Silvermoon.

_This is the one you felt?_ Came a voice.

It was clear, and soothing, but she did not hear it with her ears. Instead it radiated through her mind, calming her thoughts and flowing like a soft golden silk through her head.

_Yes, this is her. She is here but she does not belong._ Came a second voice.

_All those who are here belong here. _Came the first.

_They do, and yet not always at the time at which they might find themselves here. _Replied the second.

_What does he wish of her then?_ Asked the first as Kiri'el looked on, intrigued.

_Her task remains unfulfilled. _Came the reply. _She is here but she does not belong yet _it added.

_She is here but she does not belong yet._ Echoed the first Naaru as they each began to pulse.

Kiri'el watched the light grow more and more intense, finally shielding her eyes as it grew. With one last burst it overtook her as the heat radiated off of her face. White light blinded her and she felt as if the air was sucked out of her lungs. Her head began to spin wildly as she felt the sensation of falling at a tremendous speed. With a pained gasp her uninjured eye shot open and she registered, for just a brief moment, the quiet crackle of a fire and the nighttime chirping of insects easing her senses back to reality.

And then…she saw only darkness.


	3. A Mistake

**- Reforging Alliances –  
**

The quiet chirp of birds was the first indication to Alaric that morning had come, and he opened his eyes to find the sun much higher than he had expected. Clearly the previous day had been more tiring than he realized, and he had slept much later than intended. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing over to see the small elf right where he had left her. Alaric rose and turned towards her, for the first time noticing several things that were hidden to him in the darkness the night before.

She was small for a night elf. Certainly the smallest one he had ever seen. Her skin was more pale than he expected it would be as well. When he had first found her in the low light, he had assumed that it was because of her injuries – he had seen blood loss cause men to go nearly white – but now, in the full light of day he could tell that it was her natural color, even if it had been exaggerated by her state.

His expression turned to confusion as he took another step towards the elf. Her eyes were hidden by her hair but he could see parts of her face, and he noticed that she lacked the traditional markings of a night elf as well. There were no tattoos anywhere on her body in fact, at least the parts he could see. Then, an unnerving thought struck his mind. He knelt down and moved his hand to her face, brushing away a few strands of hair.

_She can't be…_

But her face had a unique shape. She didn't look like a night elf at all in fact. A distant cousin of a night elf maybe...but that was unthinkable. Slowly he moved his fingers up to her face. He paused, holding his breath before carefully opened one of her eyes. There, staring back at him was a telltale soft green orb.

_Impossible…_

There was no denying it. No night elf lacked the markings of their people. No night elf had such pale skin.

No night elf had green eyes.

Alaric had saved the life of a Blood Elf.

He jumped back, gasping sharply. How did he miss it? He had been right next to her last night, had healed her. How could he not have seen?

_No, no, no._ He thought to himself, panicking.

She was his enemy. The enemy of his people. Someone who would kill him without a second thought. If anyone knew he had saved her life…

He tried to breathe deeply and collect his senses.

_What am I going to do? _He wondered to himself, his head spinning.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the confusion and panic from his head. He couldn't deny that he was the reason she was alive, but it was a mistake. He knew that. She was still here. It was fixable. He could still be a good soldier of the Alliance.

Alaric looked down at her and took a deep breath before reaching slowly for his sword. Her breath was ragged as he stepped forward, lining it up with her heart and lifting it up, preparing to plunge it downward.

But something made him pause. Something nagged at him as he watched her lay there. He couldn't place it but it was enough to grab his attention momentarily away from his task. He ran through what he was doing in his mind again.

_She's my enemy._ He thought. _I have to finish her._

If anyone in the Alliance found out he had saved the life of a Blood Elf by mistake it would be bad, but if they knew he hadn't ended it once he had the chance it would be treason. The Horde were the enemy. When you met one on the battlefield, you fought to kill. Show no mercy because you would receive none in return.

So why then, was she not dead yet?

_This isn't right._ He thought before he could catch himself.

Shaking his head he forced the thought from his mind and returned to his task, bringing his sword up and preparing to end her life.

_No!_

The notion rang out again, more desperate this time. Alaric stood over her, looking at the elf as if seeing her for the first time. His mouth opened slightly in surprise at what he was about to do and slowly he stepped back, stunned.

He was a Paladin, taught to cherish and protect life. Soldiers on the battlefield wagered that life willingly, but this…

This was not a battlefield, and she was not a soldier – not at the moment at least. She was a woman who had been beaten mercilessly and left for dead. A life nearly extinguished by an act that bore no honor. Those were the lives he was sworn to protect. If he could be only a Paladin or a good Soldier, he would always choose the path of the light.

Slowly he returned his sword to its sheathe and paused, fully grasping what he had decided. It was treason to the Alliance, yes, but not to the Light. This was not a situation he had ever expected to find himself in, and he didn't know if he was choosing right. Maybe she would wake up in the middle of the night and kill him. Maybe she would kill someone else; would that life be on his hands? He shook his head slowly. That was all in the future. He had no way of knowing what she would do, but his faith in the light had taught him to see the best in people. His sword could still have been right above her heart, but his instincts could not be swayed. She may as well have been a world away behind an army of protectors.

All of this was one thing, but it didn't change the fact that she needed help. She had made it through the night, and was much more stable than before, but she was by no means out of the woods yet. He contemplated his options for a moment, unsure what to do. She needed food, a safe place to rest, and healing; he could keep her alive, but he was not as proficient with the methods of healing with the light as he was with using it for protection. There was no chance he would survive a trip to Tarren Mill, and that meant they were headed to Southshore, but he had no idea how he was going to survive a trip there either if he walked in with a Blood Elf. Alaric shook his head. That was a problem he would have to deal with when he got there.

Quickly he packed his things and then lifted the Elf onto his horse. She hadn't regained consciousness the entire time, and he felt like she might have been slipping back into danger of passing on, but he only channeled that into the urgency with which he rode once they set out. He knew one thing for sure however.

He didn't really like Hillsbrad anymore.


	4. Southshore

**- Reforging Alliances -**

It was late in the afternoon when they began to approach Southshore. The road had been surprisingly empty; there hadn't even been anyone at the watchtower when they passed by. It wasn't unheard of, but it was certainly unusual, though Alaric wasn't complaining.

The Paladin stopped his horse just up the road from the town, and considered his options. It was still light out, and there was no doubt she would be spotted for exactly what she was like this. He slipped off his traveling cloak and quickly wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up to shroud her face in shadows. It would work, so long as no one looked very close.

If they did…

He shook the thought from his mind and urged his horse onward, into the town. It was small, and he saw only a few people as he rode through towards the Inn, all of whom were too caught up in their own chores to pay any attention to him. He stopped out front of the large building and dismounted, pulling the elf off with him and collecting her in his arms. As he carried her towards the door, he couldn't help but hold his breath, praying that there were no guards or overly inquisitive citizens inside. He paused as if hoping at the last second that she might pop up, declare herself ok, and disappear from his life. When she didn't, he gave a reluctant sigh and pressed his shoulder into the door, pushing it open.

Relief washed over him instantly. It was empty, except for the innkeeper who was alone at the bar cleaning out a used mug. He glanced up at the sound of someone entering and his eyes immediately fell from Alaric to the Elf he carried in his arms.

The innkeeper frowned as he put down the mug, stepping out from behind the bar.

"What's this?" He asked cautiously, motioning to the elf.

"We need a room." Alaric replied carefully.

"And a healer too, it looks like." The innkeeper answered.

"No!" Alaric responded, more forcefully than he intended.

"J-just the room. I meant to say I'm a healer." He added, shaking his head.

"Oh? What's wrong with her then?" The innkeeper queried, curious at the pair.

"Just exhaustion from the journey." Alaric replied. "Please, she needs rest. Have you got a room or not?"

The man paused, glancing from one to the other as if he knew that there was more to discover, but finally he waved a hand.

"Aye, I've got one. 10 silver a night." He said. "Food's 5 more per meal on top."

"We'll take it." Alaric replied.

The innkeeper showed them to the room and as he left, Alaric let out a relieved sigh before stepping over to the bed and placing the elf on it. He had no idea what he was going to do about a healer, but what he did know was that he didn't want any random priest in an official Alliance post discovering the truth before he even had a chance to settle in. If it came to it, he would reveal the truth in an effort to save her life, but not a moment sooner than he had to. Perhaps he could find a way to heal her on his own. He took a few moments to expend what little mana he had on a few small heals for her, but then collected himself and returned downstairs to the innkeeper.

"Back so soon?" The man asked as he approached. "Change your mind about the healer?"

"No, thank you" Alaric said, shaking his head. "Actually I'm just after some food."

"Ah." The innkeeper said. "I'm afraid it's just bread and water for now." He said. "There's a dustup with the Horde and we're expecting our fighters back soon; most of the decent food is on reserve for them."

"I see. That will be fine." Alaric said, placing a few silver on the counter.

When the man returned with the food, Alaric decided to pry for a bit more information.

"So this 'dust up'…how long has it been going on?" He asked.

The innkeeper, who had returned to polishing his mug, tilted his head upwards in thought.

"About two days now I suppose." He replied.

"That would explain why the tower was empty." Alaric said.

"Aye, this one is bigger than normal. In fact I guess most of them lately have been bigger than normal." Said the innkeeper.

"Why's that?" Alaric asked.

"There was a rough one awhile back, each side took a few prisoners." The man said.

"That was the first time anyone had taken a prisoner, and in the heat of trying to get them back the fighting started to grow more intense." He continued. "After that, I suppose each new one fed off the last."

Alaric frowned. News like that was not good. It was a fine line between itching for a fight and what came after, and it sounded like that line had been crossed. He didn't have much time to think about it however, as at that moment the door to the inn burst open and the fighters returned.

"Oi!" Came a shout.

"Victory is ours! Mugs all around!" Came another voice, distinctly dwarven.

"I calculated our odds of success perfectly!" Came the voice of a tiny gnome, covered nearly up to his shoulders in mud.

"Yeh fell off the horse an' those tiny little legs of yours barely got yeh to the fight before it ended!" Shouted the dwarf, to the delight of the others.

More than thirty fighters packed the bar, cheering at the victory over the Horde. Within an hour they were raging drunk, and the second time an errant spell turned the chair next to him into a sheep, Alaric decided he'd rather retire than spend the night wandering the floor of the inn bleating at drunks.

"Another loaf of bread for the girl." He called to the innkeeper, passing the man a few more silver in exchange for the food before turning to go. He was three steps up the stairs to the room when his ears caught something he hadn't expected to hear.

"Whadd'ya wanna do with the troll?" said a drunken Dwarf.

"Wha, the priest?" asked another.

Alaric stopped moving and turned his head slightly to listen to their conversation.

"Aye, the only troll we caught yeh git." Replied the first.

"Oh I dunno, make e'm heal us up an' then kill him I guess." The second dwarf replied, as the first cackled.

The Paladin's mouth turned downward in an unpleasant scowl. This was not the simple rivalry that he had known before. It wasn't the way of honorable Alliance soldiers. Perhaps the troll had sealed his fate on the battlefield, and willingly so, but to execute a prisoner on such a whim? He turned back down the stairs, prepared to berate the foolish dwarves for their style of 'honor', but as he stepped off the stairs a thought struck him. Perhaps there was a way to use this situation to his advantage, and prevent a barbaric execution at the same time. He thought for a moment, and then with his mind made up Alaric stepped forward again, approaching the dwarves and putting on his best drunken sounding slur.

"Ehhh you!" He said, stumbling towards the first dwarf.

"Aye?" came the reply.

"Tha-that troll we captured…where's he at?" Alaric asked.

"They put 'im in th' bottom o' the town hall, same as all the other Horde we capture." The second dwarf said.

Alaric forced a giant, silly grin and glanced over at the speaker. "I may 'ave ta have some fun with 'im tonight." He said, to the drunken cheers of the dwarves.

At that he turned, forcing the feeling of disgust down and made his way back up the stairs to the room. A quick check confirmed that the elf was still fast asleep, though she was making a few small noises now which he took to mean she was at least improving slightly. He tipped some of the water he had returned with down her throat slowly and placed the bread on a table nearby. Once that was done, he dug into his pack for his darkest cloak, fastening it on and pulling up the hood, then he settled in to wait.

Eventually the noise downstairs died out, and he assumed that everyone had either passed out or gone home. He stepped out of his room, slowly descending the stairs to find the inn deserted, with the lanterns snuffed out and the chairs turned up on the tables.

_Perfect_, he thought.

And with that, he slipped out the door and into the night.

* * *

The cellar of the town hall was not a very pleasant place. Whereas most of the cellars in Southshore were used to store food, this one was used to store prisoners, and so the people of the town had not even bothered to install a floor. What was worse, as the troll who currently occupied the lone cell was discovering, was that the building's location adjacent to the water meant the dirt floor was nearly always damp, and the room was cold.

After the Troll's best guess put the time well after most of the citizens would have gone to bed, he went to work on the lock. He wasn't experienced at all with lockpicking, but he also wasn't resigned to dying in a mud caked cellar at the hands of a human militia. So focused was he, that he didn't hear the quiet groan of the cellar door opening and closing, nor the creaking of the steps under the weight of a visitor.

Alaric paused on the stairs where he knew the shadows still hid him well. He watched as the troll tried time and time again to work on the lock with a long thin strip of metal he had somehow produced. Eventually the creature grew frustrated and in a fit of anger threw the metal across the room. Almost immediately he dashed over, stretching his arm through the bars of his cell to grab at what he had so foolishly thrown away, but it was well out of his reach.

_Good_ Alaric thought. _If he's desperate, maybe he'll overlook how crazy this is._

His Orcish was extremely rough, but he knew a few common words, mostly from what he had overheard during the war.

"You" He called out simply in the Horde language.

The troll froze, as if caught in a spotlight in his most vulnerable moment.

"Azg?" He whispered quietly in reply, a word Alaric did not understand.

The Paladin paused, confused for a moment.

"You." He repeated, stepping out of the shadows.

The troll looked up at him in stunned confusion as he realized the person speaking to him was a human. Then, his gaze turned to a scowl and he spit at the Paladin.

"Hold." Alaric said, speaking in Orcish as he raised his hands. "You, heal?" He asked.

The troll cocked his head sideways before nodding slowly. "Yes" He replied in common, with a thick accent that told the human that the troll had no greater grasp on common than he had on orcish.

"You come with." Alaric said slowly, struggling to remember the correct words. "Heal Elf."

"Agul diz mak rog-" The troll began, speaking quickly and sounding more and more angry.

"Hold!" Alaric said, speaking over him and raising his hands again, quickly adding "Blood Elf, not Night Elf."

"You heal Blood Elf. I free you" He said.

The troll said nothing, his mouth open in surprise. As if to prove his point, Alaric moved over to where the key ring hung on the wall and lifted it off, holding the appropriate key up just out of reach and pausing.

"Yes or no?" he asked, in his own language this time.

"Yes" The troll replied in common, nodding quickly.

"Good." Alaric replied. _I'm going to get myself killed. _He thought.

Quickly he unlocked the cell door and the troll stepped out. Alaric paused, half expecting him to attack or run, but the troll simply stood there waiting.

"Where Elf?" he asked.

"Come. Quiet, or we both die." Alaric replied seriously.

The troll nodded and followed him up the stairs.

They made their way out into the night, and Alaric led the troll quickly from shadow to shadow. For his part the troll seemed intent to keep his word, and he followed obediently attempting to remain as quiet as possible. The Paladin was surprised at how well the troll hid, considering his formidable size. He was easily 8 feet tall. Had he not been preoccupied with other thoughts, it might have been terrifying to know that trolls could so easily sneak through the darkened town.

They stole through the night, first past a row of quiet houses and shops before coming to the stables. Alaric led the troll around the back, crouching below the window so as not to spook the animals. As they came to the corner of the building Alaric paused, motioning for the troll to wait. A moment later, a guard strolled out from the front, turning down the road away from them. Alaric heard a quiet gasp from behind him as the troll faded back slightly, but with the guard gone he motioned them onward through the darkness.

As they neared the inn, he walked around the corner almost directly into another patrolling guard who had just stepped past, and it was little more than pure luck that he was able to retreat before the man turned around.

"Oi, who's there?" The guard called to the night.

Alaric gave no reply, and held his finger to his lips to silence the troll, who nodded behind him.

The guard stepped towards their hiding spot cautiously, coming within arm's reach. Had it not been for the shadows, and the luck of a flower pot directly between them, the Paladin had no doubt they would have been caught. After what felt like several heart stopping minutes, the man shook his head and turned away.

"I'm seeing things again." He muttered to himself quietly.

Alaric released the breath he had been holding in, and the pair stepped around the corner and slipped into the still deserted inn. A few moments later they were up the stairs and into the room. As he closed the door behind the troll, Alaric finally gave a relieved sigh, motioning to the elf.

"Her. Heal." He said quietly.

The troll stepped over to her and looked over her injuries. He turned around, glaring angrily at Alaric.

"What you do to her?" He asked in broken common, his voice louder than it should have been.

"No! Not me." Alaric replied defensively in orcish. "Please, quiet!" He pleaded.

The troll stared intently at the Paladin for a few moments before deciding either that he believed him, or that it wasn't important. He began to mutter in his own native language as he spread his hands over the elf. Light flowed from them, more intensely than Alaric could have ever done on his own. He moved his fingers up and down, each one sending a different stream of healing into her and before long she had begun to shift slightly, though she was still unconscious.

The troll continued for nearly an hour, moving from her head to her chest and down to her leg before finally he dropped to one knee, exhausted.

"Me done." He said tiredly. "Best I can."

Alaric looked over at her and admitted that she looked much better. Still asleep, he noticed that even in the dark her skin looked healthier and some of her wounds were nearly contained. Her eye was no longer swollen, and the stab wound was no longer a deep shade of red, though there was a scar that he suspected was the result of his own inability to heal her early on. Her leg was set properly and where it had been twisted around before, it now looked almost normal; the break had been healed at least.

"She rest now." The troll said in common, his fatigue making his accent worse. "Feels better tomorrow."

Alaric nodded. "Thank you." He said.

The troll gave a simple grunt in reply. "Me go now?" he asked.

"Yes" Alaric said. He grabbed the uneaten loaf of bread and handed it to the troll.

"Come." He said.

He led the troll down the stairs and out of the inn, taking him around to the back.

"Guards there." He said, motioning into the darkness towards the watchtower up the road.

"Human farms there." He said pointing the other way.

"You go that way." He added, pointing east into the night.

"Go until you find river, then go there." He continued pointing north, his Orcish likely undecipherable though he tried to emphasize the important words.

"Lead you to Tarren Mill." He finished.

The troll nodded slowly. "Thank you." He said, before turning and heading off into the night.

There would be outrage in the morning when news of the escape broke, but Alaric was hoping the Dwarves had been too drunk to remember his comments about going to see the troll. All in all the night had been an adventure, and one he hoped not to repeat any time soon. There was still the matter of a Blood Elf cooped up in a room in the middle of an Alliance town, who would certainly be confused and scared when she woke up, but he was far too exhausted to deal with that now.

Alaric made his way back around front to the inn, and up to the room. He slipped off his cloak and shirt before dropping down onto his makeshift bed on the floor, leaving the more comfortable alternative to the resting elf. As the adrenaline faded his eyes began to droop, and for the first time all day he finally felt relaxed. His last thought before drifting off was one which he somehow knew was little more than a wish.

_If only this could last._

* * *

**_A/N:_**

Thanks everyone who had read this so far. This is my second attempt at a story, and I'm enjoying writing it so far. I've got a couple major plot points I want to cover in the next few chapters, so expect it to pick up soon! :D

Please review and let me know what you think so far.


	5. Awakening

**- Reforging Alliances -**

Dying took a lot out of a person, Kiri'el was discovering.

The first hint that she might be awake came when the muffled sounds of life hit to her ears. The second hint came when, try as she might to squeeze them out, a few determined rays of light crept through her closed eyelids and assaulted her sensitive eyes.

The third hint was the pain.

It came all at once, back with vengeance after unconsciousness had kept it at bay for so long. Every inch of her body burned with searing pain, the nerves jolted back to a state of attention after days of inactivity. The pain grew and grew, exacting its toll over the first few seconds of her alertness until she couldn't control herself anymore, and she began to twist, turn, and whimper where she lay.

As she started making sounds, she heard a noise from nearby that sounded like shuffling, a bang as something across the room was toppled and a blurry figure her eyes couldn't yet distinguish come into view. Her whine grew into a moan as the figure began to speak, sounds her ears couldn't yet make sense of. When she began to nearly scream, he gave up trying to talk and simply clamped a hand over her mouth.

Agonizing minutes passed until finally the pain began to subside as her body adjusted to being awake for the first time in days. Kiri'el had squeezed her eyes shut, and she lay there exhausted as the debt she owed for her survival finally began to die away. As her screams began to quiet down with it, the hand that had covered her mouth was removed and she felt herself able to breathe deeply again. In a few short moments she could think once more. A few minutes later she could hear again, and after that she timidly raised an eyelid to peek out at her surroundings.

What she saw drove her into a fresh panic.

She was in a room that looked distinctly like what you might see in an Alliance town. Her body was covered with injuries that – though they had clearly healed somewhat since her ordeal before – were still frightening and painful. And standing over her was a human. A _shirtless_ human.

Instantly as her surroundings registered, she rolled to the side of the bed opposite him. Moving hurt, badly, but she suppressed the pain for the time being. She crawled to her feet and stumbled back from him, reaching to her side for the sword she kept there only to realize that it was gone. The human quickly strode around the bed, holding his hands out. Kiri'el panicked again, looking around for some escape. Instinctively she limped towards the door, but just as she grabbed the handle a hand slammed into it, holding it shut.

She turned to see the face of the human, pale and looking terrified as he spoke words she didn't bother listening to. Peering over she spotted a bag, with the handle of something sticking out; a weapon she hoped.

Diving – or rather stumbling – away from him she clawed at the bag, pulling out what she discovered was a knife just as he came upon her. Now armed, her senses began to return to her.

"Wait!" he said in clumsy orcish,

The human rushed over to her, leaning down and reaching out for the knife.

"Stop!" he said, speaking common this time. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

As he leaned down she struck, plunging the knife deep into his thigh. As the blade sank in he turned, growling in pain and stumbling back. It was all Alaric could do not to yell out as he ripped the knife from his leg, tossing it aside. He looked up just as the elf struck again, reeling back as her fist connected with his stomach.

He grunted and sank to a knee, but the next time she swung he was ready for it. He caught her fist in midair and twisted sideways, throwing her off balance. Had she been in a better condition she might have been ok, but she landed squarely on her chest and the impact sent shock waves through her still tender ribs.

In an instant he was on her again, one hand clamped over her mouth as she screamed in pain and another twisting her arm back – gently, but firmly - as he pinned her to the ground. She struggled for a moment before realizing it was hopeless and giving up.

"Stop!" Alaric said forcefully.

"I am not enemy!" he pressed, struggling to find the orcish words to pacify her.

She squirmed a moment more before mumbling something into his hand.

"I let you talk now." He said in the rough language. "We are in Alliance town. If you yell, we both die." He added.

"Understand?" he asked.

She lay there for a moment before slowly nodding. Alaric paused before finally removing his hand.

"I am not enemy." He repeated.

"Who the hell are you?" Kiri'el asked in common, nearly perfect save for a slight Thalassian accent.

"You speak common?" Alaric asked, shocked.

"Obviously." She replied harshly. "Let me go." She said, trying to sound forceful but unable to hide the hint of fear in her voice.

"I will." Alaric returned. "If you promise not to attack me again."

"I was defending myself!" She retorted, squirming again underneath him.

"Defending yourself from what?" asked Alaric. "I didn't do anything to you except save your damn life!"

At his words she stopped suddenly, as if registering for the first time that perhaps there was a reason she had woken up with her injuries partly healed, safe in an inn. After a few moments of contemplation she finally relaxed.

"Ok." She said. "I promise not to attack you again."

Alaric waited, wondering if she meant it, but then he rose, grunting as his weight shifted to his injured leg.

"What's going on?" She asked, rubbing her wrist as she sat up.

"You're in Southshore." Alaric said, falling to the floor with his back against the wall. "I found you in the hills to the north, healed you, and brought you here to let you recover."

"If you call this healing-" Kiri'el said, grunting as she limped over to the bed "-the Alliance has worthless healers."

"My apologies then." Alaric snipped, growing annoyed. "Next time I'll just leave you for a _Horde_ healer to find, rather than risk my own skin for the sake of someone I've never met before."

Kiri'el's eyes fell downward. The Horde was the entire reason that she was like this in the first place.

"Sorry." She said quietly. "I didn't mean that."

Alaric grunted and rose to his feet, limping over to his bags. Wordlessly he rifled through, pulling out a shoddy roll of torn cloth and tying it gingerly around his leg.

"And sorry about that" she said quietly.

"If you spoke common, why didn't you stop when I told you the first time I wasn't going to hurt you." Alaric asked briskly, groaning slightly as he tightened the makeshift bandage.

"Would you have reacted any differently in my position?" She asked.

"I suppose not." He admitted with a sigh, finishing his work on the wound.

"Why don't you just heal it?" she asked. "If you could heal my injuries, surely that's nothing."

"No mana left." He said simply. "I used it all trying to keep you alive."

Kiri'el nodded quietly.

"And besides, I'm not really a healer. I kept you from dying, barely. You can thank a random troll who's no doubt long gone for everything else." He said.

"I see." She replied.

"How do you know common anyways?" He asked, returning the remaining cloth to his bags and lifting out a simple cloth shirt.

"My father taught me." She replied.

"He spent time in Lordearon before the war where he learned it." She added.

"Ah." Alaric replied simply.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Alaric turned to the door.

"I'm sure you're hungry." He said. "I'll go and get food. Stay here and try to be quiet. If we're discovered, we're as good as dead."

"Alright." She nodded, sitting back down on the edge of the bed as he stepped out the door.

Kiri'el closed her eyes, trying to comprehend everything.

_What was going on?! Almost slaughtered by the horde, and saved by a human? _

It made no sense at all. What just happened had gone against everything she had always known, yet here she was; living proof that it wasn't a made up story. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Something didn't add up. No Alliance soldier ever stopped to save a member of the Horde. They did quite the opposite in fact.

Then there was the issue of him being shirtless. Just what _had_ happened while she was unconscious? She asked herself sarcastically which seemed more likely: that he had told her a lie to pacify her or that a human had _just so happened_ to find her and save her life.

Kiri'el's expression turned to a scowl.

He had mentioned a troll. Perhaps that had been who had found her, and the human had simply spotted his chance to take advantage of a helpless woman, killed the troll, and.._._

Kiri'el shuddered.

For a human, she wouldn't put it past him. She didn't have time to think any more about it however as the opening door heralded the return of the Paladin.

"Here." He said, holding out a mug of something and a half loaf of bread.

She simply stared at the food, decidedly more on edge now than when he had left.

"Don't you want it?" He asked, confused.

"How do I know you haven't poisoned it?" Kiri'el replied.

"What?" Alaric asked incredulously, taking a step back. "Poison you? After going to all the trouble to save you?"

The Paladin couldn't help himself anymore. He broke into wild laughter. Not just at her accusation, but at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. He had saved a Blood Elf, freed a troll, spent the entire night sneaking around a friendly town like a rogue, and then been attacked and stabbed by the very person who owed him her life.

_Maybe I'm just losing it._ He thought, his delirious laughter dying down.

"Whatever." He said, shaking his head and dropping the food onto the table. "Anyways, we have bigger problems."

"What?" She asked, turning her head to him.

"It seems that you were a tad bit too loud when you woke up earlier." He said. "They heard."

"What?" she asked again, more serious this time.

"I think my answers satisfied them for now, but no doubt we'll hear from the guards soon; tomorrow if not tonight." He continued. "We can't stay here."

Kiri'el began to panic.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, her voice rising. "Fight?"

"No." Alaric said firmly. "There will be no fighting, from us at least. They're still my people.'

"We're leaving tonight." He said.

"And going where?" She asked.

"Away from here." He said.

"We go east to the river, and then north to the road." He continued. "From there I'm going back home. You're going to Tarren Mill, or Silverpine, or anywhere you want to go that doesn't involve me having to risk my life anymore."

Kiri'el sat in silence for a moment, thinking it over. He wanted to get rid of her; not exactly the mark of someone who would have kidnapped her. He brought her food and lied to keep her secret from the guards. Perhaps there was a hint of truth to his story after all.

Still, he was a human.

She looked up at him as she thought. He was…interesting. He wasn't too old, but not too young either, yet he carried himself like an old veteran, and he fought like one too, at least from what she had seen earlier. At the same time he had his flaws. He couldn't heal – she had never known a Paladin of any calling who couldn't do so at least somewhat proficiently, but it was an area he clearly lacked in. She also took in his appearance for the first time.

Shaggy brown hair came down nearly to his eyes, and the hint of a beard had come in. A long thin scar ran down the left side of his neck, starting midway up before cutting down his shoulder and beneath his shirt. She hadn't noticed it in the chaos before but now it held her attention for a moment longer perhaps than it should have.

His build wasn't particularly bulky. He had the muscle necessary to carry around a shield and wear plate armor, and perhaps in years before it had been more defined, but now he had clearly neglected his training somewhat.

Then there were his mannerisms. He had shown several emotions in the scuffle earlier. Terror, she now realized, at the prospect of her escaping out the door and into a room full of Alliance. Anger at her own actions and accusations, but also – she noted with curiosity – restraint. It was a rare person that would take a knife to the leg without giving one right back, or worse.

_Interesting_. She thought.

Alaric finally glanced up from his meal to find the elf lost in thought. A moment earlier he might have sworn her eyes were trained on him, but perhaps he was imagining things. Nonetheless he turned his own thoughts back to their predicament. They were known now; the innkeeper had made his suspicions abundantly clear during their earlier encounter. Perhaps the man didn't know the exact nature of what was in the room, but he clearly understood something was happening that should not have been. Alaric thought he might even have suspected the earlier commotion was a struggle, and though he tried to hide it his noticeable limp didn't exactly rule that out.

He turned to the window silently, peering outside. Darkness was just beginning to fall. It would be a few more hours before it was safe to attempt an escape, but until then they had plenty of time to kill.

_Hmph._ He thought with a grunt. Soon they would make their break. He would be on his way home, and she would be on her way to…wherever. Then it would all be over.

_Finally_ He thought.

_I was starting to think this couldn't get much worse._

* * *

**_A/N:_**

Thanks for the reviews, and all the views so far! Part of what I enjoy about writing is the feedback! I generally do a basic grammar/spell check before I post these, but I'm going to go back and recheck what I've posted so far, so my apologies if anything has slipped through! (Then again it doesn't always help - Thalassian almost became Australian).

Connet: I'm glad you're enjoying it!

iN3PTITUDE: Don't worry; when I get a story in my mind I try to update very frequently until it's done! While I can't make any promises, I'm just as anxious as you to see where this ends up!


	6. Gone

**- Reforging Alliances -  
**

Night had fallen, and the town of Southshore was quietly sleeping – earlier than usual, Alaric noted – when the two unlikely companions slipped down the stairs of the inn and out the front door. A quick glance around confirmed that there were no guards in the area, and a moment later they were safely in the shadows out of sight.

Alaric led Kiri'el around the back of the building where he paused, checking for any patrols before motioning her forward. They stepped inside and he approached his horse, preparing it for the journey ahead. He untied the charger and led it out quietly, motioning a moment later for the Elf to step forward and up into the saddle. She would need to ride more than he; he knew she still couldn't walk well, and though his own injury stung it wasn't nearly as bad. With the Elf situated on top of the mount, he took the reins and walked the horse forward, preparing to lead it out into the night just as the thought crossed his mind that perhaps this would be easier than he had anticipated.

A moment later, he realized just how wrong he was.

A blinding light exploded from nearby as a lantern was uncovered, and guards poured in from the sides of the stables.

"There!" Shouted someone from the back.

"I knew it!" Came another cry.

Alaric gasped, dropping the reins and staggering backwards.

"Horde!" said a surprised voice.

The commotion startled the horse, and the charger reared back before lowering its head, plowing forward with the spike lowered as if to impale any who stood in the way of its escape. Kiri'el gave an alarmed cry and grabbed the reins, attempting to hold her balance and prevent being thrown off. As the horse tore through the wall of humans, she looked back, watching the scene unfold behind her.

"Stop her!" Shouted a guard.

For a moment one of them raised a bow, but recognizing the effort as futile he lowered it again, resigned to let her go. For her part, she didn't have much choice as the creature bolted through the night to safety.

Alaric stepped backwards slowly, searching for an escape even as guards flooded the stables, surrounding him in seconds. Their swords were drawn and they quickly forced him back to the wall, ending any hopes he might have had.

"Down, traitor!" Growled one of the guards, stepping forward and punching the Paladin in the gut.

The blow sent him reeling and he fell to a knee, gasping for breath. For a moment the he tried to stand, but the sharp point of a sword brought within an inch of his face made clear the message and he sank back to the ground.

For a few brief seconds he looked around, meeting the angry stares of the guards who had him cornered. Maybe he could try and talk to them. Surely they would understand; he had just been keeping his oath to the light.

"Wait" He said, holding up a hand. "I can expla-"

"Quiet!" Yelled a guard behind him, landing a blow on the back of Alaric's shoulder with the hilt of his sword.

The Paladin groaned in pain as he fell forward into the dirt before twisting slowly and crawling back to his knees.

"Make way for the captain!" Yelled a voice from the back.

On command, the guards parted and a soldier with a scraggly beard and worn, but decorated armor stepped forward.

"Hiding a Blood Elf right beneath our noses eh?" The man said in a gruff voice, coming into view.

"I've never-what?" He exclaimed in surprise. "Alaric?!"

The Paladin looked up at the speaker for the first time and instantly recognized him. A few years' worth of scruff and wear had been added to his features, but the face of the man he had served under during the war was a memorable one.

"Captain Aramar?" He asked in shock.

"Alaric." The captain repeated. "It's been a long time."

"This is what you've done with yourself?" He asked grimly.

Alaric gave no reply and the man pressed on.

"No Alaric. Not you." He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You were a good soldier, and loyal to the bone." He continued. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is."

The Paladin remained deathly silent.

"Tell me this is a mistake old friend, and you can walk away right now." The Captain repeated, almost pleading.

The mob of guards in the stables seemed to be holding their collective breath, waiting for his reply.

"No." Alaric replied finally. "I have my honor."

"I cannot pretend that this isn't what it looks like." He said, forcing himself to his feet and meeting his old captain eye to eye.

The Captain stood before him, silent for a moment. He shook his head, attempting to speak several times before swallowing his words. Finally he turned to a nearby guard.

"Prepare a courier to Stormwind." He said quietly.

"Alaric…" he said turning back to the Paladin and pausing, his voice barely more than a whisper.

A moment later his face hardened.

"You are under arrest for treason against the Alliance." He said firmly. "In the name of the King, all that is yours is hereby forfeit."

The Captain stopped, trying to muster the strength to speak his final words.

Finally he spoke. "At the first available opportunity you will be returned to Stormwind for trial and…" he delayed a moment, hoping that Alaric might recant at the last second. When he didn't the Captain sighed and delivered his final verdict. "…and execution."

"Goodbye Alaric." The Captain said finally, turning to depart.

The Paladin watched him go, his eyes hollow. That was it then. His life was over.

"Move it, traitorous dog." Came the bitter voice of a guard, who gave him a stiff shove from behind.

They marched Alaric forward, towards the town hall; towards the very same cellar that he had freed another enemy from only the night before. His injured leg throbbed, a reminder of where his dedication to the light had gotten him.

"Here we are." Said a guard as the cellar door came into sight around a corner. "Not quite up to our _Alliance_ standards, but we find it suits you _Horde_ well." The man spat, shoving Alaric forward again.

The Paladin stepped forward, registering emptily that it was the final steps he would take as a free man. Just as his foot hit the threshold of the cellar door, something happened. A grunt from behind them gave the first warning that all was not right. The loud clank of metal hitting the ground rang out next, and as a cry of surprise went up, the guard escorting him released his grip, turning around just in time to see the hilt of a sword connect with his jaw, the last image he knew before unconsciousness overtook him and he dropped to the ground.

_What?_ Alaric thought, turning around. Two guards were already knocked out. A third was down on his hands and knees, dazed.

And there, facing off with the other two was Kiri'el.

She had claimed the weapon of one of the fallen guards and held it before her shakily. Her other arm was held tight to her side, cradling her injured ribs and barely holding up a shield bearing the crest of the Southshore Militia, and Alaric saw that she could put little weight on the leg that had been broken before. He turned his head sideways for a moment, registering the situation with a strange curiosity. Was this real? Had she come back, or was his defeated mind playing tricks on him?

He watched as she fought. It was the first time he had seen her on the offensive, and he could tell she had some experience with a sword before. Perhaps not as much as him, but she held it confidently nonetheless, even if her diminished strength could do little to prevent it from waving weakly in her grip.

"Guards! Help!" Came a cry from the side; Alaric turned to see the innkeeper running frantically away towards the barracks. As if awoken from a trance, the words snapped him back to reality. In an instant he had knelt, scooping up his the sword and shield from the fallen guard beside him. Then he charged, shouldering one of the remaining defenders to the ground. The man grunted painfully, rolling aside before jumping back to his feet.

"Come then traitor!" He shouted. "I'll end your miserable life right here!"

Alaric twirled the sword in the air, preparing to strike. They may have been evenly numbered, but this man was nothing to him. Alaric had been a fighter all his life. The guards were nothing more than part time militia. He knew it by the man's technique. He stood awkwardly off balance, his weapon thrust forward as if trying to hold the Paladin at bay. The man's shield was held to the side, more a weighty hindrance than any sort of actual protection. When the guard swung he did so weakly, and off center.

In short, the Paladin realized, the man was exposed as easily as if he had been wearing no armor at all.

In another less desperate fight, Alaric might have ignored it, used it as a lesson in training, or softened his blow to only what was necessary to subdue the man. Now however, he faced an enemy that was fighting to kill. As the guard let fly another wild swing, Alaric twisted to the side, well away from any danger before bringing his sword around to land a perfectly balanced swing directly under the man's arm, slicing through to his heart. As he cut upwards, the guard froze in shock, pale faced and choking for breath before falling forward to the ground, dead.

Instantly Alaric turned to see how the Elf fared. She was fully on the defensive. While the second guard was clearly no more experienced than the first, he had the strength to crush his enemies, and a large mace to match. Kiri'el held her shield up to each swing, barely able to keep her balance in her weakened state as the guard rained blows down upon her.

Alaric quickly started towards her, drawing on the light to call forth the protective magic he had learned from his years of combat. He focused all of his energy into the blows, and timed his spell perfectly, even if he didn't have as much strength left to power it as he had hoped.

As the guard brought his mace down, it connected squarely with the feeble elf's shield. Had it not been for Alaric, it may have been the final blow needed to break her defense. Instead, as it hit, light exploded from the point of contact, sending the man's arm flying back as it rebounded off, the force of his blow returned to him. The guard cried out in pain and twisted backwards, the mace thrown from his hand and skittering through the dirt out of reach. He bent over, holding his arm and staggering away, but it was far too late. Kiri'el, given the only chance she needed, was on her feet in an instant. A moment later the guard's life was ended, her sword protruding through his chest.

Alaric stumbled over to her, drained. He glanced around, feeling sick at what they had been forced to do.

"I didn't want it to be like this." He said bitterly, looking from one dead guard to the other. "I didn't want to fight them."

Kiri'el said nothing at first, out of breath from her own assault.

Alaric shook his head, wanting to relive the previous minutes, to perhaps hold back just a little, but the shaky voice of the Elf brought him back to reality once more.

"Come on, we need to get out of here." She said.

He shook his head, refusing to accept the sight.

"Wait - I can save them." Alaric said. "It's not too late."

"More are coming." Kiri'el urged quietly, watching him shuffle towards the dead guards.

He stared down at the man at his feet, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

_This was battle_. Alaric told himself.

But it wasn't was it?

No, these weren't Orcs. These weren't Trolls or Tauren or Forsaken. They were humans. Men. With families, here in the town within walking distance from where their husbands or fathers lay dead by his hand.

_This wasn't a battle_, he thought. _It was murder. _

Wasn't it?

His mind swam, fading in and out of reality wildly. He hadn't meant to kill. To fight, yes. To incapacitate yes. But to kill? No. Not them.

In a way, it was almost heartbreaking for Kiri'el to watch. She barely knew the human. She hadn't even asked his name, and yet she knew from his actions that he was shattered. In less than an hour, everything he had known and loved had crumbled away, and he was helpless to stop it. His home would be taken by the Alliance. His life was forfeit as well, if ever he let his guard down and they caught him. His oath to the light and determination to protect life was broken, lying dead in the dirt before him.

Alaric said nothing but fell to his knees before one of the guards, calling forth light from his hands. But where before it had streamed into his target's body, now it crackled into the air in all different directions, dissipating into nothingness.

Alaric tried again.

"Paladin…" Kiri'el whispered.

And again.

She stepped towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

And again.

Nothing happened. The guard was dead.

"We need to go. Now." Kiri'el said, her voice growing louder as the sounds of commotion began to ring out from across the town.

Alaric ignored her, staring blankly at the ground.

"Stop this!" She yelled, shaking him out of his trance.

Alaric looked up at her, lost.

"I did not come back and risk my life so that you could wait here for death to find you." She yelled, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to his feet.

Finally he snapped out of his daze, nodding silently to her. She motioned for him to follow and led them around to the back of the town hall, limping over to the horse where she had left it hidden out of sight.

"Quickly." She said, climbing up on top of it.

A moment later Alaric joined her. As they set out towards the darkness of the trees his mind went blank again, content to let the Elf lead them wherever they might end up. He forced everything out that he could, only allowing one thought to echo through his hollow mind.

It was gone.

Everything was gone.

* * *

**A/N:**

Poor Alaric…

madwinter12: Alaric is roughly 30; I didn't want to put a flat age on him or Kiri'el, but they're both similar in where they are in life (though lore-wise Blood Elves live for ages).

I'm planning a chapter that delves into their character details a bit more soon – after all, they haven't even had a proper introduction yet! As for Karzak, time will tell! :)


	7. What Now?

**- Reforging Alliances -  
**

Over the hours following their escape from Southshore, Alaric paid little attention to where the elf led them. He was vaguely aware that they were riding deeper into the hills, and at some point he realized they had ended up near the river he had mentioned earlier. He said nothing the entire time, and Kiri'el understood why. It was little more than random chance that he had stumbled across her, and in trying to save her life he had given up his own. Kiri'el pulled up on the reins, bringing the mount to a halt. They had been riding harder than she intended for quite a while, and if the horse was to be any use to them tomorrow it would need rest.

"We'll stop here for the night." She said, looking around.

Alaric nodded quietly, climbing down from the saddle. Kiri'el searched the bags of the charger, and upon finding the fishing pole she set out to test the river for fish. Alaric for his part attempted to busy himself with mind numbing chores. He tied the horse to a nearby tree, then began to toss a few sticks and logs into a pile. After a few minutes he even managed to start a small fire.

Just as the flames began to crackle the elf returned, two large Sagefish hung neatly on the hook of the fishing pole.

"Take this." She said softly, handing him the rod while she got to work cooking.

Alaric stepped over beside the fire, dropping down to sit on the ground beside it. Quietly he closed his eyes, trying to comprehend how everything had gone so wrong so fast. He needed it to make sense. He needed a reason for what had happened, something to latch on to that would let him know that the loss of his life, his status, his people…that it would all make sense in the end. He trusted in the light; if it would only give him a reason to believe that it would all make sense one day, he knew he could weather any storm.

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed as his desperate search for answers echoed through his mind.

_Perhaps this was a test? _He wondered.

He could live with that. The light had tested those before him and surely it would do so after him as well. Maybe it was just a trial of his faith, and redemption awaited him. Alaric was not one to crumble in the face of adversity; if that was the case, he would take anything that might come his way in stride.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Perhaps this was simply fate's roll of the dice. Perhaps he was destin-

_No._ He thought firmly. _This is a test. _

Deep down he didn't truly know, but he had been down this path before. He understood well that now was not the time to worry about the specifics. A trial made sense. A trial justified his loss. And so a trial was what he now faced, Alaric decided. Reality be damned; he would wrestle with the details later.

Illusions had served him well in the past. It had been soul crushing when Orcs tore through his village as a child, slaughtering his parents where they slept. That had been the reason he left to join the war in fact. When he had come upon their torched house after a day of fishing, he had told himself that it was fate guiding his hand towards his military calling rather than his parent's poor luck to be in the path of an Orc warband.

His brother had spoken of the Defias with reverence only months before he disappeared. When the Westfall Brigade finally stood victorious over the gang in the Deadmines, Alaric hadn't dared ask if his only sibling could be found among the bodies of the group's misguided mercenaries. He'd never wanted to know. He'd simply told himself that his brother had been a victim of their scheming; that his death was a sacrifice to purchase security for the people of Westfall rather than that the boy had simply chosen his allegiances wrong.

He had lost friends in the war, seen children orphaned, heard stories of soldiers tortured and much more. Suffering wasn't new to him. Each time he could understand the loss and comprehend the destruction only because he was able to attach it to a cause, real or imagined. It was a strange thing, but it kept him sane.

It was a small comfort. He would be ok in time, perhaps. Perhaps not. For now, he knew that it was pointless to fight the feeling of emptiness. Time was the healer of all deeper wounds. He could think, and rationalize, and try simply to cope, but nothing could substitute the simple passing of time. In quiet contemplation he stared into the fire, tossing the odd stick in as his mind wandered. Across from him sat the elf. She watched him think, understanding all too well what was on his mind.

"This is my fault." She said finally, breaking the silence.

Alaric shook his head with a sigh.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is." He said quietly.

"If I hadn't been out in the woods for you to find me-" She began.

"-Then you would be dead." He interrupted. "Not exactly a desirable outcome either."

He sat a moment more before adding with a sigh "I don't regret saving your life."

She sat for a moment, thinking nothing in particular.

"What now?" She asked, after a pause.

"Now" Alaric said simply, "you go on to Tarren Mill."

"What about you?" She asked.

"I don't know." He said, shaking his head slowly. "I'll survive."

She sat quietly, feeling sick. It wasn't right. She should be dead, and he should be safely in Southshore enjoying a warm meal by the fire of the inn, or in Stormwind, or wherever else he would have been if not for fate's cruel intervention.

She let her gaze wander to his expression. His face was strangely pacified. He was sad, she saw that much, but she also saw a strange determination in his eyes as they glimmered in the firelight. It would have been unthinkable to her before, but she felt a certain trust towards him now. He was nothing like she had thought of humans. The Horde was indoctrinated to believe that the Alliance would be merciless, would steal from them, kill the men and do worse to the women. She had no doubt the Alliance told their people the same of the Horde, yet when reality struck, it was the exact opposite.

"My name is Kiri'el." She said quietly, unsure what inspired the revelation.

The Paladin looked up for a moment, a hint of surprise in his eyes before looking back down to the fire.

"Alaric." He said simply.

"Alaric." She repeated, her head tilting slightly to the side as she processed the name. It was interesting, the way it rolled off her tongue.

"How did you end up in the forest where I found you anyways?" He finally asked.

She paused for a moment, cringing inwardly at the memory of her beating. It wasn't a thought she enjoyed. Still, it was only fair that he know, she supposed.

"An Orc tried to kill me." She said. "His name was Karzak; a slave trader."

"Why did he want you dead?" Alaric asked.

"Owning or selling slaves is outlawed among the races of the Horde. It happens, and everyone knows it, but that doesn't change the punishment if you get caught." She said. "I caught him, by pure accident."

"Accident?" He asked.

"Wrong place, wrong time. I stumbled into one of his chats with a goblin baron about it." She said.

"I see." Alaric replied.

"He held me for hours before finally instructing his follower to kill me." She said, shuddering at the thought.

"I remember it clearly." She said. "I felt myself die. I know it, and I remember that part perfectly, yet there's a gap after that. Something happened that kept me alive until you found me, but I don't know what."

"Anyways" She continued, dismissing the thought "the next thing I remember is waking up in the room with you. You know the rest." She said, motioning to his leg.

"Mmm." Alaric grunted.

"So where is home?" He asked her.

"Tranquillen, before the scourge overran it." She said, drawing a confused look from the Paladin.

"It's in southern Quel'thalas, a place I believe the Alliance calls the Ghostlands." She clarified. "But I don't get back much."

"Why not?" He asked.

"It's overrun by Scourge." She said, sadness overtaking her voice.

"I'm sorry." Alaric replied.

It was odd to her, thinking about so many things that had brought her sadness, and yet speaking about them here, with this Paladin on this night felt…right. She knew the distractions would comfort him; conversation brought a sense of normalcy that he badly needed right now, and her own revelations felt like a long overdue release.

"Where will you go now then, if not back there?" He asked.

"I don't know." She said.

A strange pause filled the air between them for a moment before a thought struck her. It surprised her, seemed impossible to even consider, and yet…why not?

"Maybe…" She said, her voice trailing off slowly as she debated whether it was worth speaking aloud.

"Hm?" Alaric asked.

"I could stay with you for a while." She said. It seemed crazy, and yet for some strange reason the thought of being on her own again – or was it the thought of not being near him? – saddened her.

"What?" He asked, surprised.

"You heard me." She said.

"You want to stay with me?" He asked again.

"Sure. Why not?" She pressed.

"Given the last few days, I'm not sure if that's in my best interests." He said grimly, but the telling hint of amusement snuck into his voice.

"Come on." She said, perking up slightly. "Neither one of us has anywhere to go."

"And besides" she continued, "I owe you. It'll be hard to repay you for saving my life if I don't know where you are."

"You have lots of places to go." Alaric corrected her. "We're within a day's ride of a Horde town."

"Yes, and spending time around the Horde worked out so well for me last time." She replied sarcastically.

"Either way, you saved me from the guards, so we're even." Alaric said.

"Hardly. You practically pulled one of them off of me." She added with a mock groan. "I may even owe you double now."

Alaric grunted in amusement. He sat for a moment, thinking it over. Alliance traveling with Horde? It was preposterous, if not downright dangerous. And yet she was right. Why not? As far as the Alliance was concerned, he was already a traitor. What did he have left to lose?

"There's just one problem." He said finally.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Kiri'el is a mouthful in battle." He replied, causing the elf to grin.

"How about Kiri." She suggested. It was a name her mother had called her long ago.

"Kiri." Alaric said slowly, as if he had not already made up his mind.

"Ok." He said simply. "Let's do it."

For the first time that night, Alaric broke into a small smile.

Across the fire, Kiri'el exhaled, a breath she hadn't known she was holding. They were staying together. It was crazy but somehow, unlike so many other things the past few days…

It felt right.

**A/N:**

* * *

Wow, I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. Emotional swings are tough. They've had a proper conversation now though, back to the action soon! ;)

I've gone back and cleaned up the last chapter ("Gone"). It was sort of incoherent at times and oddly paced. I guess that's what I get for rushing through without editing it properly. Anyways, the plot is the same, but if you had trouble with some of the strange errors it may be worth a quick re-read.

Zarabethe: I'm glad you're enjoying it! His inability to use the light was a combination of exhaustion, panic, and the fact that the guard was already beyond saving. In WoW, all Paladins can resurrect, but in the interest of preventing superhero-syndrome where every problem could be solved with the wave of a hand, unnamed guardsman #5 had to die. His sacrifice was noted.

Finally, thanks again to everyone who's read and reviewed so far!

PS – Longer note than I intended. I'll try to keep them shorter in the future!


	8. Two Orcs

**- Reforging Alliances -**

Tarren Mill was not the sort of place most people would willingly go.

Both the dark locale and the generally somber mood of those forced to stay in the town for any length of time meant that Tarren Mill was not only a place you could easily forget existed, but so long as you kept your head down and your nose to yourself, it was also a place you could easily be forgotten in.

It was just the sort of place Karzak liked. As nighttime fell like a shroud over Hillsbrad, he and his companion drifted wordlessly through the darkening streets.

Karzak was sturdy, his body having been trained and hardened by a life of conflict.

First, the Burning Legion had bent him to his will. He had been young then; too young to fight, but the demonic legion cared little for details like that. He had been one of the youngest of his clan to drink their tainted blood, and his body had been one of the most accepting of their corruption, growing in both size and strength with their fel power as he ravaged all who crossed his masters.

When the curse was broken, he had been equally afflicted with the apathy that had consumed his people and his unholy strength had faded. Though his body shrank equally, he remained formidable, if a shadow of his former self.

With the Orc's emancipation however, he had rediscovered his old blood thirst, more so than his newly freed comrades. His body had aged, not so ancient as some others but certainly beyond his best years. He cultivated his desire for chaos and bloodshed, but quickly found that the world no longer had room for the old ways.

Under the banner of the demons he had relied on brute strength, carving a path through a sea of enemies as easily as a knife might cut through butter. But the world in which he found himself no longer had outright warfare. The Alliance and the Horde had brokered a feeble truce, and though he was active in seeking them out the skirmishes that popped up from time to time did less and less to satisfy him.

Eventually the fighting nearly stopped altogether. Each side began to wind down the destructive cycle of war, and Karzak found his usefulness as a soldier came to an end. But where his ability to satiate his thirst grew more difficult, his desire for power over others, to control them nearly overtook him. The Orc had slipped into a deeper depression, feeling lost. It was as if he were back in the internment camps again; no purpose, no use to anyone, no _power_. He wasted away for a time before a thought had come to him.

Karzak had heard a goblin mention the slave trade.

Technically it was illegal, outlawed by Thrall but to Karzak that was little more than a detail. The peace loving _warchief_ – Karzak had often snarled inwardly at the irony – had made a rousing argument against it, employing thoughts of the Orcs internment, his own story of slavery, and a plea for empathy. But to Karzak, nothing could draw him from the temptation of this new source of power.

The first time he had seen a slave had been…_exhilarating_.

He remembered winding his way through Orgrimmar, out of the huge gates at the front and into Durotar. He remembered coming to the canyon along the road to the south, spotting the telltale white mark on the rock that let him know he was going the right way.

He remembered following the nearly invisible trail, from mark to mark until finally turning a corner and spotting the entrance to the cave, light spilling from it as if to mark his destination.

And when he stepped inside, there she was.

It was a human female. She was dragged out to the center of the cave, her wrists bound behind her back. The woman had been wearing once respectable robes that now bore the dirt and rips of a long and painful journey. Her face wore an expression of terror and confusion at the mass of Horde surrounding her, speaking in a foreign language.

She had been a citizen of Theramore, caught one day while out in the marsh. They cared little else for her background, but her obvious status had been enough to warrant a high price. She had gone to a troll that night, the high bidder among a group of otherwise disappointed customers.

Slave after slave had been brought forth. They were inspected, muscles measured for the men, and other parts for the women. Some were sold to be workers, some were sold to other traders, and some were sold for purposes that Karzak neither knew nor cared for, but what had struck him in such a perfectly satisfying way was the look of defeat that he saw on each one. He had savored the mental images of the rope as it tugged them forward, the useless pleas that had burst forth as the slaves realized their fate. This was power, and he wanted it.

His campaign had not been undertaken alone. If Karzak was a physical brute, the Orc at his side was an outright monster.

His name was Korbitar, and he stood nearly a head taller than Karzak. While too young to have tasted the blood of Mannoroth, Korbitar shared the natural thirst that Karzak had cultivated. Where his ambition matched that of Karzak however, his wit fell far short. Korbitar had fallen into the role of a subordinate, following the orders given to him by Karzak with the understanding that having a little power given to him was better than having no power at all. It was an unspoken agreement that both Orcs were largely ok with.

Perhaps the only thing Korbitar disliked about his role was the infrequency with which he was called upon; he longed for open warfare, something that had eluded him only because of his age. The closest he was able to come was when a group of slaves proved too problematic to be worth the effort of maintaining them. To kill someone at his master's command was a treat, but to slaughter endlessly on the battlefield..._that_ was what Korbitar wanted.

Still, Korbitar supposed, it was something. The two Orcs had thrived, and he was happy to take what he could.

Karzak grunted as they reached their destination. The inn was faded, most of the windows broken.

"Stay here" he said to Korbitar, receiving a simple nod in reply.

Karzak entered the building and took a glance around. It was nearly empty, except for the innkeeper at the bar and a slim blood elf who was just in the last moment of pulling up a hood to cover her face. He peered across the small sitting area at her, knowing that behind the dark shadows her own eyes were gazing back.

Karzak's eyes narrowed towards her, a scowl forming unhidden on his face as he stepped forward. After several seconds she turned back to the innkeeper, her interest in Karzak fading without a second thought. Her muffled conversation resumed as he walked over to the stairs, climbing them quickly without a word.

Silence greeted him at the top, but he knew that the floor was not deserted. Karzak peered around until he found the room he wanted – the only one with the soft glow of a lamp flickering out from beneath the door – and then stepped forward and after a quick glance around, gave a firm knock.

"Yeah, come on." Said a gruff voice, muffled behind the wooden walls.

Karzak paused for a moment, growling quietly to himself.

_Goblins._ He thought with disgust.

"Hurry up." Called the voice again.

Karzak snarled at the thought that he had to deal with them at all, let alone this particular goblin, but with a final grunt he stepped inside, narrowing his eyes on his small green host almost immediately.

Had he been focused he might have noticed something peculiar. As the door closed behind him the light flickered. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to illuminate – only for a moment - what was otherwise cloaked in darkness.

There, crouched low in the hallway against the wall and sneaking quietly towards the closing door was the figure of a small slim elf, her hood pulled up over her eyes.

* * *

Kiri'el had felt her heart nearly stop when he walked in.

Something deep down in the back of her mind had told her to pull the hood up, and she had done so just in time, but beyond that she had given in to the automatic desire to stare in shock as the Orc responsible for torturing her walked through the door and glared right at her. When she was finally able to snap her eyes away she wondered if perhaps she had allowed her gaze to linger too long, but eventually he had moved on.

They had come to Tarren Mill to get supplies. Alaric was nearby in the woods, hidden away in a small clearing and awaiting her return. The moment the Orc's foot had disappeared off the top step, she had grabbed what she could carry and turned, her mind only on fleeing as quickly as possible, but halfway to the door a thought struck her.

It was crazy. She was lucky to be alive after the first time he had discovered her.

…and yet…

She had turned and silently followed him up the stairs. She watched as he stopped, glancing from door to door. She saw him look down at the crack of one in particular, the telltale glow emanating out from beneath it. She had seen him knock, a single hard thud, heard him growl with displeasure at the voice that told him to enter.

And as the door had closed behind him, she crept forward, her eye to the keyhole where the muffled voices of those inside could just barely be made out.

* * *

"Baron Gelwix" Karzak said.

"You're late" replied the goblin, jamming a finger towards the Orc. "I don't like having to wait, especially in a rat hole like this."

"I'm no more thrilled to be here than you." Growled the Orc.

"Yeah yeah." Said the goblin with a wave.

"Now then." Gelwix said. "We've had a long and…er…healthy agreement. But this…my best goblin, dead." He said, shaking his head.

"By his own fault." Said Karzak.

"Not at all." Countered Gelwix. "He was there on your business, so he was your responsibility."

"Now, unfortunately" he continued with a smirk "this little tragedy is going to require that we make a few changes."

"Do not test me." Said Karzak with a snarl.

"Price, for one." Continued Gelwix. "You've been getting these slaves at a steal-"

"And it's going to stay that way." Interjected Karzak.

"- and it's not." Replied the goblin. "I gotta make up for the loss of what he would produce. Let's say…"

The goblin paused for a moment, his long green fingers stroking his chin in contemplation.

"Double what you pay now." He finally said.

"The price will stay the same." Karzak said, his anger rising.

"Take it or find somebody else to go kidnap people for you." The goblin retorted.

Karzak stepped forward, a menacing glare on his face.

"You got my best man killed." Gelwix said. "You're the one responsible fo-"

In the blink of an eye, Karzak felt his rage boil over. Before the goblin knew what had happened, the Orc had swept forward, dangling him high off the ground as Karzak's hand closed around his throat.

"If I were you" He spat "I would worry about more urgent matters at the moment."

"W-wait" The goblin choked out before his words were cut off.

"Hm?" Karzak asked, his eyes narrowing. "Sorry, you'll have to speak up."

Gelwix tried to speak but found his words cut off as the Orc's massive fingers squeezed tighter.

"Goblins are filthy." Karzak spat as he watched the one before him squirm. "You're lucky I have a use for you, but if you insist on changing that…"

"O-" Gelwix rasped.

"What was that?" Karzak asked.

"O…kay…" the goblin squeaked.

"Okay what?" Karzak asked, his malevolent gaze focused solely on the goblin's desperate eyes.

"S…ame….p-pr…ice…" Gelwix wheezed.

"I thought I heard you say you would lower the price?" Karzak asked in a teasing voice.

The goblin's eyes grew in shock for a moment at the Orc's words.

"I think five gold a head sounds fair, down from ten." Karzak said. "Don't you?"

The goblin said nothing but paled at the Orc's words.

"Do we have a deal?" Karzak asked, his grip tightening.

Unable to speak, the goblin simply nodded furiously as his fingers pried at Karzak's iron fist.

"Say it." The Orc demanded, an evil grin on his face.

"D...d…ea…l" squeaked out the goblin.

At his victim's word, Karzak released his grip and Gelwix fell to the floor, crumpling in a heap.

Unconcerned, Karzak knelt before him and grabbed the goblin's chin, forcing him to look upwards.

"You will have the next group to me no later than a week." He said.

"I've moved the operation to the ruins of Durnholde." Karzak added, drawing a weak nod from the goblin.

"Do not test me again." Karzak said calmly "I would take great pleasure in ending your miserable life."

"G-got it." Said the goblin quietly, his voice returning.

"One week." Karzak repeated, rising. "Don't make me wait."

With that he turned, stepping to the door and out into the darkness of the hall. Karzak paused briefly as he stood there, sensing something amiss. It was dark, but he didn't spot anything particularly out of place. With a shrug he turned and left, down the stairs and back out to where Korbitar waited.

As he left the building, his follower gave a soft grunt and motioned upwards to the window of the goblin's room.

"Not yet." Karzak said, shaking his head. "He's still useful."

Korbitar shrugged and turned, following his master as the pair made their way out of the small town and off into the night.

The goblin would live for now.

* * *

It had been right after the Orc had turned towards the door that Kiri'el had realized exactly how stupid this plan had been.

Her mad scramble to hide had been second in urgency only to her desperate need to keep quiet. Somehow, she had accomplished both with mere moments to spare before the door came open. By some miracle the light from the room fell just short of the small crevice into which she had squeezed, where the wood had rotted away enough to allow her to hide in complete darkness.

She had almost been spotted – again, she noted mentally – but luck seemed to be on her side that night. Still, she waited for several minutes after he left to be safe before crawling away and quickly slipping outside of the inn and back into the night.

One particular thing echoed through her mind.

_Durnholde._

_I've moved my operation to the ruins of Durnholde._

She didn't allow her mind to wander too far into the implications of this new found knowledge yet. She was in a state of shock to have come face to face with _him_ again so soon. Had he seen her? If so had he recognized her? Or even cared?

Before she was able to process the events in their entirety, she was back among the trees and at the clearing where a small campfire told her Alaric was waiting.

"There you are." He said. "I was starting to think you had run into trouble."

"I nearly did." She said quietly.

"What happened?" Alaric asked, his voice suddenly serious.

"Well…" She said, dropping down to sit near the fire.

"Have you ever been to Durnholde?"

* * *

**A/N:**

Hey all! Sorry it's taken so long to update. Life and stuff.

Joojoobear: No worries! I have no plans to abandon this, I promise. The last two chapters have been particularly challenging to write, and they've taken a long time to get something acceptable done. With the transition out of the way, I hope to start getting these done a little bit easier (and that means quicker!)


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